


Mr. Winchester.

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Teachers, English teacher!Sam, F/M, History teacher!Castiel, Latin teacher!Bobby, Light foreplay, Mechanics/Shop teacher!Dean, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Punishment, Punishment Sex, Slow Sex, Smut, Sociology teacher!Chuck, Spanking, Teacher-Student Relationship, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, nonsexual intimacy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 19:36:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	1. Chapter 1

"How did you fail?" Jen teases. "You're one of his favorites."

"I... dunno." You sigh, fussing with your hair.

"You gonna talk to him about it?" Jen asks, adjusting her jeans so they rode on her hips, not below them. "I know you think he's hot."

"Everyone thinks he's hot!" You defend yourself.

"I hear Dean- er, Mechanics Mr. Winchester, has more girls falling at his feet than English Mr. Winchester." Jen bites at her thumbnail.

" Did you just call Mr. W 'Dean'?" You glare at your brunette friend. She glares back with an embarrassed smile.

"What?" She violently shoves her books into her locker before everything came down on her. "He hates formalities. And Ford's..." Jen chuckles.

"Gross. Teacher's pet." You nudge her.

"English slut!" She nudges back.

"Jerk!" You shove her playfully.

"Bitch!" And she shoves right back, earning you a slam into some lockers.

"Ladies, ladies, there a problem?" Mr. Winchester walks over to you slowly with a concerned smile, with Mr. Novak trailing behind him.

"Hmm?" You brush some fly always behind your ear. "No problems. Nope we're good. Friendly banter."

"Did you just use the word 'banter'?" Jen snickers 

"Shut it." You glare. "Uh, Mr. Winchester could I talk to you about something after school?"

"Uhm," He rubs his hands together, then proceeds to push his hair back out of his face. "Yeah, yeah. Actually, I'm free eighth period. I understand you're in Mr. Novak's study hall?" You nod, as does the tall man in the blue tie. A sudden realization passes in Mr. Winchester's eyes and he turns to the History teacher and smiles. "So Dean and I expect you for dinner, Castiel?"

"Of course." Mr. Novak grins, and acknowledges you and Jen eyeing him expectantly. "Ah, yes. If Mrs. Singer asks, I held you both late. Give me your back, ____."

You nod, allowing him to scribble a makeshift pass onto an absentee ballot.

Jen waggles her eyebrows at you as you continue upstairs to Biology II.

"Shut up...." You grumble. "Jerk."

"Bitch." She mouths as she takes her seat and you hand the slight dark haired woman your pass.

**  
You find a note lodged in the vents of your locker and roll your eyes.

 _Dear Bitch,_  
 _I wonder if he'd up you grade for a - oh wait. Little Miss Priss pants would never get on her knees for Mr. "I-seduced-your-best-friend-by-reciting-Romeo's-monologue" Winchester. I'll be waiting in Mechanics. (I heard he let a Miss Coal Miner's Daughter do it. Just so you know.)_  
\- Jerk  
**  
"You are going to S- Mr. Winchester's room, correct?" The brunet man with eerie blue eyes asks when you approach his desk.

You nod, but see he's already on a pass. He chuckles as he hands it to you and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. You liked Mr. Novak but.... sometimes he kinda freaked you out. It was probably his eyes.

You sling your bag over your shoulder as you head to the secondary building where Mr. Winchester's English room was located. As well as Mr. Shurley's, sociology class, Mr. Singer's Latin class, and just behind the building is the garage for mechanics and shop, both taught by Mr. W.

You knock softly, and push open the door. The man looks up from underneath some of the hair that had fallen in his face. He smiles, tucking his pen behind his ear.

"It's about your test, huh?" Mr. Winchester gives an apologetic smile as he watches you dig through your bag. "You're one of my best students..." He muses softly, more to himself than to you and you fight the urge to blush like an anime school girl.

"Uh, yeah." You nod, nervously playing with the ends of your hair when you retrieve it. "I really need to make it up."

The English teacher grimaces.

"I can't, huh?" You sigh as you perch on top of a desk.

"I'm 'fraid not. However, I can offer extra credit assignments." He sighs. "But that's the best I can do."

The words from Jen's note float around in your head, and you bite your lip. He _was_ attractive, there was no denying that, so you made a decision, and thanked God that the room he was in had no windows, aside from the covered, slender window in the door. "Well.... I heard a rumor... kind of... about a Miss Coal Miner's Daughter..." You chew your lip watching as he raises his eyebrows.

"And it was?" He steeples his fingers, expectant.

"That you have a thing for hot girls in tight pants." You shed your jacket, trying to play it off as seductive and not clumsy. "Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but I consider myself a pretty girl in tight pants."

He chuckles, crossing his arms over his black tie and white button up, watching you as you shed other things, like your over shirt and your tank top. "Well, your assumption is correct, Miss ___. Lock the door, and come here." His tone took on something you'd never heard from him before. Command. You bite down harder on your lip and do as you're directed. "I _will_ raise your grade. No more than a C+. And, for now, and _only_ now, you can call me Sam." 

"Alright....Sam." You nod, testing the name to your ear and his. He seems to approve, and motions you over to his desk. "Hands above your head." Your English teacher growls.

"Now, with credit..." Sam places a large hand on your back, your cue to bend over, and he skilfully tugs your pants to you knees. You feel him pressed against your backside, his slacks rubbing against your ass, and you shudder. "I also believe in punishment. You could have done much better. Couldn't you?" A small swat comes down on your ass, and you squeal, nodding obediently.

The swats keep coming, harder and harder with every blow, and you're helplessly writhing and whimpering softly and mewling, begging for Sam's touch once he stops. The warmth of his body behind yours disappears, and you wonder if you did something wrong, when you feel soft lips pressing kisses against your reddened ass.

"You get your credit tomorrow." He promises, rubbing something cool that you assume to be a hand lotion into your reddened flesh.

"What..." You pause, panting softly. "About you?" You straighten up when Sam's hand's are no longer on your skin, and motion to the erection straining against the deep blue slacks he wore.

"I'll be okay." He reassures you with an apologetic smile. "You might want to get ready. You're dismissed in ten." The brunet man notes.

You collect your clothes, gingerly pulling up your pants, stuffing your tank top into your bag, and pulling on your shirt. You watch as Sam goes about grading, as if he doesn't have a raging hard on and you roll your eyes. "Let me help you with that. Please?" 

He looks up at you from under his hair, like he'd done earlier and he grins at you, all toothy and innocent. "Help me with what, ___?"

You grin wickedly at him as you crawl under his desk, fumbling with his belt, and undoing his slacks. You pull his cock free from his boxers, and experimentally begin licking the head, eliciting a soft moan from your teacher.

"You want me to suck your cock, Mr. Winchester?" You whisper, licking a soft stripe up the bottom of his shaft.

"Looks like someone- nghh,- someone wants to be punished again tomorrow." Sam's voice is broken as you begin taking him into your mouth. "Ohh God." He hums, and you hear him tapping his fingers against the arms of the chair.

You stiffen, hearing a rather loud knocking on the locked door, and a muffled, "Sammy! Let's go!"

"Just a minute, Dean!" The older man announces, and you hear Mr. W's footsteps retreating.

You begin to work faster, sucking, and licking when Sam pushes you off, the bell ringing above you.

He tucks himself away, and helps you to your feet. He watches the disappointment flash across your face as you gather the rest of your things, and he grabs you by the wrist. "____." He grips you by the nape of your neck and presses a harsh kiss to your lips. You eagerly return the kiss, curling your fingers into his hair and he grips you tightly. "Tomorrow." He reassures you.

You nod, grinning, running your tongue over your lips. It would be a long, long time before you forgot the way he tasted. Like coffee and Ande's mints.

***  
"You okay?" Jen asks as you slowly get into the car.

"Fine." You bite your lip with a soft smile. You feel something folded in your back pocket and fish it out. It's a phone number, with Sam scrawled under it in a hurried manner.

"Ooh, what's this?" Jen swipes the number from you. "Sam. Who the fuck is Sam?"

You sigh in relief. "Some guy in my calculus class." 

***  
Sam tugs at his suddenly way too warm T-shirt as he eats.

"You okay, Sammy?" Dean raises his eyebrows at his brother from the other side of Cas.

"Yeah. Yeah, 'm fine." Sam nods, his eyes downcast to the phone in his lap, scanning the text message.

\--Hey, it's ____.

\- Hi

\--what're you up to?

\- Not a whole lot. Takeout Chinese with Dean and Cas.  
-what're you up to?

\--Brad Pitt movies and box Mac and cheese with Jen.

Sam chuckles and rolls his eyes.

"What's so funny?" Castiel questions from where he's glaring at his discarded chopsticks, stealing Dean's unused fork.

"Nothing." The younger man shakes his head, continuing to smile as he finished his crab.

-How's that going?

\--Uhm......Well.... we forgot about the Mac, and set off the fire alarm.

Sam chokes softly, trying to contain his laughter.

Castiel's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Who're you talking to?"

"Hmm?" Sam clears his throat. "Some barista wrote her number on my Starbucks last week."

"Was she cute?" Dean asks, and is rewarded with an elbow to his ribs from a disgruntled Cas. "Ow! What?"

Cas rolls his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

 

"So did you talk to him yesterday?" Jen asks, raising her eyebrows as she sits next to you at lunch. You try not to wince when the bench bounces under you.

 

"Mhm." You nod, scribbling absently in the margins of your Sociology notes.

 

"Are you okay? You've been off since you two talked. He didn't let you fix it, did he?" Jen looks concerned as she steals your pen from you and begins to doodle.

 

"He did. I'm just preoccupied I guess." You shrug, feeling your phone buzz in your pocket.

 

_From Sam:_

_I told Cas I'd be tutoring you the rest of the semester. You're welcome._

 

You cough softly, trying to mask your grin.

 

"What?" Jen makes an attempt to peer over your shoulder.

 

_To Sam:_

_Hey, Sam. Jen's watching me text. But thank you for helping me with calc. I appreciate it._

 

***

You worry your lower lip as you glance up from your essay and catch Mr. Winchester's eye in 6th period; he notices you shifting uncomfortably in your seat, and casts hazel eyes downward at the pile of papers on his desk, grinning to himself as the class continues their test.

 

***

The tone for the ending of seventh period rings overhead and you get to your locker as quickly as you can, taking Jen's note with you to read on the way to Mr. Winchester's room.

 

_Dear Bitch,_

_Is there something you're not telling me? Did you lie to me? And who's Sam? And who's Cas? What's going on, ____? I'm worried about you, dude. Why aren't you telling me things anymore? Do you not trust me or somet-_

 

Your focus on Jen's note is cut short when you reach Mr. Winchester's room, and push open the door. Sam is perched on the edge of his desk, an expectant smile on his face. "Afternoon."

 

"Afternoon." You nod, wanting to finish Jen's note, instead folding it and stuffing it into your bag. You lock the door behind you, your eyes trailing up and down along Sam's body. He has on black slacks, and a red button up and more than anything you want to tear them off with your teeth. But that can wait for another day.

 

You drop your bag in a chair, and approach him slowly, positioning yourself between his legs. You tuck away some of his hair and grin, your hand resting on the side of his face.

 

"I promised you a reward and a punishment yesterday, did I not?" He questions, watching you.

 

You nod. "Yes, Sir. You did."

 

Sam grins, and leans close, whispering, "Compliments will get you _everywhere_ with me."

 

You shudder and press yourself closer to him, your hands fumbling with the damn near impossible buttons on his shirt.

 

"Ah, ah." Sam tsk's, grabbing both your wrists, transferring them into one hand, using the other to loosen the black tie around his neck. He looks into your eyes as if briefly asking for permission, before expertly looping the tie tightly around your wrists. You tug on them, and find yourself helpless.

 

"Don't bother." He murmurs as he presses heated kisses along your neck, "My dad was a bit of a survival nut. Taught us how to restrain people at a young age." The grin he flashes you is innocent, but the look in his eyes in predatory and lustful.

 

A cold chill skitters up your back as Sam's hands begin to wander. Again, he looks at you as if asking if it's okay. It's more than okay, actually. It's perfect. Something you tried to tell yourself you only wanted because of raging feminine teenage hormones. His hands are soft, softer than you expected. You hadn't really been paying attention yesterday to anything but the sting they had left in their wake. They slide under your shirt, across the expanse of your belly and your back. Those watchful eyes of his never leaving yours as Sam presses kisses, and nips at your collar bones, causing you to press yourself closer to him. He cups one of your breasts, blindly searching for the clasp. When Sam succeeds in  this, he asks you to lift your arms, and pulls your shirt up over your head, leaving it to hang limply around your restricted hands, your bra joining it soon after. He leaves open mouthed kisses along your shoulders, and down your chest, his hands kneading your breasts softly, a thumb occasionally grazing a nipple.

 

"Sam," You whimper softly, the touches foreign and causing small fires to lick the pit of your stomach, soon retreating to your loins. You flex your fingers, watching nothing more than to card your fingers through that mop of dark, chocolate brown hair when Sam hits his knees in front of you, latching onto one nipple, assaulting the sensitive nub with tongue and lips and teeth. The hand no longer at your breast makes it's way down the front of your jeans, rubbing soft circles into the thin satin. The combination of the various sensations is shooting desire straight between your legs and your legs begin to buckle beneath you.

 

"Lesson one," Sam growls, momentarily stopping the attack on your sensitive bits to haul you up onto the edge of his desk, and undoing the tie around your wrists to rid you of your shirt and bra. You take advantage of the opportunity, and pull his lips to yours by those mused locks of hair. Sam grunts into the kiss, ridding himself of the button up and winds his fingers into your hair. He bites softly on your lower lip as he pulls you away from him to observe you. "Obedience."

 

He flicks out his tongue to moisten his lips, his left hand sliding down to rest on your neck, his thumb rubbing nonsense patterns. Sam grins. It's a feral look that darkens the color of his eyes, and sets your belly ablaze. He sets about undoing your jeans, pulling them to your calves, cursing the entire time about girls and their sick senses of humor, watching guys struggle getting their jeans off because they're so tight they're like a second skin... The brunet man begins by kissing your knee, up your thigh, and just when he's almost where you want him to be, he stops.

 

"Do not touch _me_ , do not touch _yourself_ , do not touch _anything_ and do not make _a sound_ , unless I say so, clear?" His breath is warm against your thighs and you nod helplessly. "Yes sir."

 

Sam goes about hooking his fingers in the waistband of your panties when he pauses. "Another thing. Tell me when you're close, or we'll be revisiting obedience during a detention," He makes quick work of the fabric. "And it will _not_ be as rewarding. Do you understand, ____?"

 

"Yes, Mr. Winchester." You bite down on your lip to bite back a desperate moan when his tongue delves into your sex, and you buck up involuntarily into his ministrations. He places his hands on your hips, keeping you anchored to the desk. Your mouth parts, your breathing heavy as you let your head roll back.

 

"Already so wet...." Sam murmurs against the sheen of sweat on your skin, his breath a cool contrast to the flames of lust that seemed to cover your body. "Do you like it when I tell you what to do?" He brings one hand down, rubbing at your clitoris with the heel, two fingers circling your slit.

 

You inhale sharply at this, nodding.

 

"So pretty like this," He mutters, leaning up to kiss at your neck, slipping those teasing digits in ever so slightly, and pulling them out, and back in. He repeats this motion while he works on leaving a mark on the junction of your neck and shoulder. "At my _mercy._ "

 

You tighten your grip in the edge of the desk as his pace increases. You feel all that pent up lust coiling up tightly in your belly and you moan through clenched teeth, "Sam! Sam, so fucking-"

 

You whimper at the loss of his fingers and he continues to bite and suck at your neck.

 

"Such dirty words for such a pretty mouth." Sam chuckles, nuzzling your neck. "That was, and is your punishment. You won't come, and you won't touch yourself without _my_ permission. I know it frustrated you when I didn't let you finish me off yesterday. Would you like that?"

 

You nod eagerly as you get onto your knees, "I would love that, Sam." You fumble with your English teacher's belt, grinning triumphantly when you're able to get your hands down his pants and free his straining cock. One hand grips the base, stroking slowly, while the other snakes it's way up his white wife beater to feel his chest. You wrap your mouth around the head as you look up at him, and he looks back with lust blown eyes, and parted lips. He watches as you slowly, sloppily take him into your mouth, saliva running off your chin. Sam braces himself on the podium behind him, letting out a soft, breathy repetition of "____, ohh fuck! God, ____, shit!"

 

"So fucking good...." Sam praises when you swallow the load he gives you.

 

You grin from your knees, pulling up your panties and jeans when you raise, picking up your shirt and bra and quickly throwing them on. when you finish fixing yourself, and you turn back to Sam, he's still white knuckled around the podium. You take the time to appreciate his post-orgasmic appearance. His hair is coated with sweat and it clings to his face, his eyes still shut as he breathes heavily. His lips are kiss plumped, and parted. His tank top is bunched up at his stomach, and his cock hangs flaccidly out of his boxers and slacks. You see the flash of black ink on the left side of his chest, and approach him to investigate. You cautiously push back the white fabric and he blinks at you as if he's confused for a moment. You smile at him, and he smiles back, still trying to regulate his breathing. You peer curiously at the strange ink, and see it's a pentagram, inside something that resembles a sun. Whatever it is, you decide you like it.

 

"It's...just something my brother and I got slapped on us as teenagers." Sam explains as he straightens up, tucking himself away.

 

"I like it." You smile softly, worrying your lower lip.

 

When you glance at the clock above the door, you realize you've still got a solid twenty minutes before the final bell. Sam sits on the edge of his desk, like he had when you came in. You ask if you can sit, to which he rolls his eyes and pulls you sideways into his lap. You thread your arms around his neck, yawning as you nuzzle into it, feeling Sam carding his fingers through your hair.

 

"Tired?" Sam questions softly, as if he were afraid that speaking too loudly would damage something.

 

"Mhm." You shut your eyes and focus on his breathing, and not the way the suddenly less sexual and more intimate touches made you feel.

 

"You can sleep if you want..." He murmurs, the sound reverberating in his chest.

 

"Can..can we just kiss? Is that...is that okay?" You ask softly, suddenly unsure of yourself.

 

Your teacher chuckles, "Yeah, I think that'd be okay."

 

He cups your cheek, and the kiss is slow. His lips are soft against yours, and one of your hands curl possessively into the hair at the nape of his neck the other rests on his chest, and you can feel his heart beating erratically. It continues that way for a while, slow, sensual.

 

_This ain't a scene, it's a god damn arms race..._

 

You roll your eyes as you get up to check your text. Sam chuckles, and asks who it is. You answer, "Jen."

 

_From Jen:_

_Holy shit dude!!! Ms. B just got caught sleeping with Mr. Lark in the Health room._

 

"You're shitting me. No way." You cover your mouth with your hand to stifle your giggles.

 

"What?" You jump when you feel Sam pressed against your back with his arms around your waist. You show him the text message and he grimaces as he laughs. "That's pretty gross."

 

You nod. Mr. Lark, the school principle was a stout, middle aged man with broad shoulders, and Ms. Beatrix, the health teacher, was a lanky woman with glasses that always wore her hair in a bun. Both very unsightly people, you decided they made a good couple. You check the time, and sigh. "Five 'til."

 

Sam chuckles, pulling you closer, and you put your phone back in your bag; turning to face him, you let yourself be held. He puts his cheek on top of your head, and you sigh.


	3. Chapter 3

***  
It had been three weeks, and the lessons continued, and so far, you'd had five, not counting the days you and Sam had just sat around and made out, which was usually followed by light foreplay. Obedience, discipline, patience, tolerance, and denial. None of which involved Sam actually doing what you'd begged him for, bending you over his desk, and plowing you until you saw little cartoon blue birds. Today, though, you had a new plan when you went to his room. You went through the usual ritual of locking the door, and crawling into Sam's lap, allowing him to kiss you breathless until you were tearing, quite literally, at each other's clothes. His hands were on your ass, occasionally laying in a few hard spanks and you ground your hips together, begging. "Please, please, Sam. I need it so fucking bad."

"Need what?" Sam teases, palming your breasts as he lays open mouthed kisses along your neck.

"I want it, Sam. Oh, please, I want it. I want you. To bend me. Over your desk. And. Fuck. Me." You whisper this slowly in his ear, punctuating your words by grinding harder in his lap. You lift one of your arms from his shoulder, reaching around to your back pocket and slipping a condom into one of his hands.

He chuckles, raising one eyebrow. "Subtle."

"Please," You press a needy kiss to his lips. "I'll make you a deal."

Both of his eyebrows raise in silent question, an arrogant smirk on his face.

"If I pass Cas's test Monday over the first world war, you fuck me. If I don't pass, you can use wax as my punishment."

"I counter your offer. If you pass the test, with no lower than a B+, you get a nice," Sam's hips jerk upwards and you moan softly into his neck. "Hard fuck. If you get any lower, your punishment will be the slowest fucking you'll ever get."

"Deal." You grin wickedly. Sam challenges you with his eyes, a grin matching yours spreads slowly across his face.

****

Tuesday rolls around, and Castiel is handing out the tests. You felt so sure of yourself yesterday. You knew almost all of the answers, so you were sure that you'd gotten a good mark and then Sam would-

You stare at the little red 86 percent B in the corner of your test and you feel yourself lose color. There was a reason you wanted roughness from Sam. You didn't want those....intimate touches, or those soft gazes he gave you when he thought he hurt you, or when he just felt like being....romantically intimate. Well.....I mean you /did/ want something /more/ with Sam but....you were frightened more than anything. That he would leave you like everyone else you'd ever had a relationship with did. So you tried to do bad things, keep him on his toes about being hard on you.

"Hey.... you okay, ____?" Jen asks, nudging you.

"Yeah...yeah. Fine." You nod absently.

*  
"The verdict?" Sam asks when you set down your bag.

"Eighty six." You admit defeat and Sam seems to enjoy it. Slow had become his thing lately. Always with the slow.

"Strip." The sharp order sends shivers down your spine and you comply without protest.

You perch on the edge of the desk, watching Sam as he took his time in unlacing his shoes, and untucking and unbuttoning his shirt. You bite your lower lip and rub your hands along your thighs to keep from rubbing your clit as you watched Sam become erect. He places large hands on your knees, pushing them apart to rub at your sex and you gasp softly. Your hands make their way from his arms, down his chest, back up to his shoulders. He leans in, pressing your bodies close together as he kisses you, mainly using his lips and wandering hands to distract you from his quick entrance. Once it hits you, your lower body feels like its on fire, and you gasp into Sam's mouth, clinging desperately to him. Your nails dig into his shoulders, and your teeth sink into his neck, and he winces, brushing hair away from your face. 

"I know..." He murmurs, his thumb taking away tears you hadn't known you'd shed. "I know..." His hips move slowly, and you stifle a sob against his neck. "Give yourself time." The teacher whispers into your hair, stilling his movements. Sam's fingers dance along your back and you breathe deeply. In, out. Relax your mind. In, out. Relax your body. In, out. You urge for Sam to move, knowing that you'd have no other choice, and he complies. He rocks his hips slowly, his hands coaxing you flat on your back. He's pressing soft kisses wherever he can, working at your clit as he does so, and the pain slowly melds into need, and want, and he knows. But the same, slow rock of his hips continues.

"Sam..." You drag your nails up his back, and he hisses against your collar bone.

"So good for me," Sam praises, catching one of your hands in his and interlocking your fingers, and rubbing harder at your clit. "So beautiful."

You grip his shoulder tightly, and pant nonsense into his ear. "Mmm, Sam, need, fuck!"

The head of his cock teases the little bundle of nerves, and you tug on Sam's hair. He growls, and you really aren't sure what kind it was, but a sharp, bruising kiss is inflicted upon your unsuspecting lips and you cling tighter to him. You feel the English major's heavy pants sweep over your lips, and you peek your eyes at him. Concerned hazel eyes watch you, and that was it. You cry against the lips crushed to yours to muffle the noise, and feel a shudder slide up his scratch reddened back. Sam murmurs your name against your lips and you really just want him to hold you. The thought sends butterflies attacking your insides, and you catch your lower lip between your teeth.

***

"Dear," Mr. Winchester clears his throat, and you feel a blush creeping down your neck. You spare a glance at Jen, who looks like she isn't sure whether to cry or laugh out loud. "Bitch,  
Wonder where those teeth marks came from on Mr. Winchester's neck. I bet you're jealous of that lucky bitch, huh? Wink wonk. You think it was another teacher?" He pauses again to catch your eye, an unidentifiable look in them. "A student, perhaps? Would it bother you to stay about an hour after school? I need to make up my mechanics test. By the way, I heard that Jake's gonna ask you out. You really need to show me Sam. You seem to be pining over him pretty hard, dude. He's gotta be something special. Like, Mr. Winchester special. Waggles eyebrows at you suggestively. Love, Jerk."

If you thought the class had been giggling through the note, the last line sent them into a roaring frenzy. You decide to put your head down. Jen smiles nervously, and sighs in relief when she's told that she was only receiving a warning. You, however, were in for it later.


	4. Chapter 4

"Are you jealous?" You tease Sam when you crawl into his lap where he's sprawled in his chair.

"Are you?" He counters, pressing small kisses under your jaw line.

"Of who? The mystery girl that marked you? Nah, I know her." You smirk when you kiss him. "I think you're jealous of Jake."

"I think you want punishment." The older man bites on your lower lip.

"And if I do?" You raise your eyebrows, a challenging smile spreading across your features.

"Then Mr. Winchester will have to take a ruler to that pretty ass of yours." Sam smirks, nipping randomly at your neck.

You feel a shiver of excitement trail your body, and you worry your lower lip. "Remember during my patience lesson you threatened to tie me up and gag me if I didn't cooperate?"

"Of course." The look he gives you is mischievous, and devilishly charming. You sort of want to smack it off his smug face. But you don't want to even begin to think about how deep in punishment you'd be.

"Would you really tie me up, Sam?" You nuzzle his neck as he cards his fingers through your hair.

"I would love to. Another time, perhaps." The man offers, hazel eyes hiding another smirk.

"Mmm." You him softly as you consider that thought. Sam, tall and handsome and naked smirking down at you as you pressed against the ropes around your wrists, your ankles, your torso, the gag in your mouth causing you to drool uncontrollably. There's a look in his eyes that boarders amusement and unabashed lust and you shiver and groan around the red rubber.

"Thinking about it?" Sam muses, his hands running up and down your sides.

You nod, and he asks you to tell him what you see. "Thick, silk ropes around my wrists, and ankles, around my tits, and between my legs. There's a gag in my mouth,-"

"Ball or ring?" He asks, guiding one of your hands to the bulge building in the tan slacks he wore.

"Ball." You inform him as you slip to your knees, undoing his pants with practiced ease. "I'm pulling on the ropes, and you're just.... looking at me. Standing over me, all tall and lean and naked, with that," You pull out his cock, tightening your fingers around the girth of the base, earning a small moan. "Little half smirk thing you do when you think something's amusing and really arousing. Like earlier. When I asked if you remembered." You lick a soft stripe up the back of his shaft, flicking an experimental tongue around where the shaft meets the head. He groans, low and throaty, threading his fingers into your hair. "And I can't stop drooling around that ball, and just that look is making me wet, Sam. And I just squirm and wriggle and you take the rope that has my wrists crossed, and you handcuff me to the headboard, the one you told me about, with the iron bars." Sam moans, tugging sharply on your hair, and you trail the tight fingers at his base all the way up, keeping that pressure. Your breath ghosts over his twitching length as you speak and he hums, your cue to continue. "And you rid me of the gag and kiss me. Til I can't breathe and my toes curl and I'm begging around a sore jaw. Begging for your cock inside me, Sam." You rub at the front of your jeans, and Sam swats your hands away, guiding your mouth to his straining erection. You lavish the head, your hand still stroking him, and you peek up at him through your lashes. His hair is sticking to his forehead, and his head has lolled back, but not so far as for him to not be able to watch you. The older man notices your gaze, and a low snarl escapes his throat.

"Bend over that fucking desk." He commands, grabbing a wooden ruler from a drawer.

You tug down your jeans and panties and Sam places his hand over your mouth. He strikes your ass and your thighs with the wood as he thrusts into you with an abandon. You chew the inside of your cheek, trying not to let any noise slip from your mouth as the harsh sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room. Sam's ministrations were spot on with your sweet spot and you were silently begging for it, pushing back against him. He presses his chest against your back to rasp in your ear, "Want me like that? Want me to fuck you all tied up and pretty for me? God so fucking...." The teacher trails off to nip at the back of your neck. "Beg for my cock, just like that, huh ____?"

"Sam!" Your cry is muffled against his hand as you come sharply. Sam continues to thrust a moment, before ordering you on your knees with every shred of effort it took for him not to come. You compliantly open your mouth, watching him stroke his cock, slick with your come. It takes less than a heartbeat for him to spill his seed all across your face and you hum, lapping at the tip of his cock, milking him. Sam huffs as he slinks back down into his chair, sweeping the white fluids off your face, and offering his fingers to your lips. You take them one at a time, giving each one a proper tonguing as you swallow the last of him.

"God damn," He murmurs, petting your hair softly as you both reposition your clothes. You scurry into his lap to press needy kisses along his jawline. Sam shifts to find a more comfortable position for the both of you, a soft smile on his features. You run your fingers absently through his hair, smiling back.  
*

"Are you chaperoning Prom after break?" You question, perching on Sam's desk, smirking when he seemed agitated that he couldn't work around you.

"I do every year." Sam smiles, fishing a pair of glasses from his desk drawer.

"You look nice with glasses, Sam." You smile, pushing back his hair.

"So, why're you asking about Prom?" The brunet man raises an eyebrow with a small smile. He knew exactly why.

"I was thinking, maybe I could 'drop by' and spend Post with you." You bite your lip nervously. You wait for the yelling and the "you're crazy and we need to end this right now" speech.

You watch Sam quietly considering it. Weighing the options in his head. He finally meets your eyes and grins. It's innocent enough, but something about it sends chills racing up your spine. "Why not? Gets me out of being nudged into a corner by Mr. Shurley's student teacher niece."

You grin, throwing your arms around his neck as you laugh.

*

"Sam, could I talk to you, for a moment?" Castiel asks, as the taller Winchester scrounges for a beer.

"Yeah, 'course Cas, what's up?" Sam nods, perching in a chair at the kitchen island.

"It's about ____." Cas says, sitting next to his boyfriend's little brother.

"What about her?" The younger brunet inquires.

"You seem to have taken a sudden....... interest in her."

"I'm just helping her out with our Shakespearian unit, why?" He nurses his beer.

"No reason. Just curious."

*  
Spring break was half over and you're missing Sam something awful. You're on your usual run when rain starts pelting you from all angles. You decide to run a little further, when you spot Sam's car parked outside a small apartment building. You bite your lip in contemplation, and decide to head in.

You're met at the door by a girl no older than ten who greets you with a smile.

"Hey, could you tell me which apartment Sam Winchester lives in?"

"Tall guy? Brown hair? Always dressed kinda fancy?"

You nod eagerly, and she directs you up the stairs and three doors to the right. You thank her, and head up. You suddenly feel self conscious. What if he doesn't like the fact that your here? What if he's got a girl over? What if Dean and Cas are here? You dismiss the last one, you hadn't seen the impala Dean takes so much pride in. "Baby," he calls it.

You shake your head, and knock. You're met with a muffled response of "Just a second!" And the door opens. Sam adjusts the sweat pants at his waist, and he looks confused, and then angry.

"____, what are you doing here? Are you crazy? What if, what if someone saw you-"

"I was on my run and it started raining. I saw your car, and I came in. No one saw me except a little kid." You reassure him.

"Get inside." He sighs, running a hand through his hair.

You offer him an apologizing smile. "I'm sorry, Sam." You shut the door behind you.

"Sorry." He repeats in disbelief. "Sorry could get me fired, _____."

"What and sleeping with a student won't?" You counter, and immediately regret it. "Sam....I didn't mean-"

"Its okay." He nods, a small smile of understanding on his face. He catches the hem of your shirt, and tugs you closer to him. "Take these off before you catch a cold." Sam's the one who ends up stripping you of your shoes, socks, jeans and t shirt. "God you're freezing," He murmurs as he runs his hands up and down your nearly bare body as he hugs you close under a blanket on the couch. 

"So, do you plan on letting me walk around your apartment naked, or?" You question as you press into his chest on the couch for warmth.

The English major chuckles and shakes his head. "Maybe." He kisses you softly.

You roll your eyes and push off of him.

"Where you goin'?" Sam's hazel eyes flicker with momentary sadness.

"To raid your closet." You reply as you head down the hallway.

Sam chuckles and you watch his eyes dilate when you reappear in a blue and white plaid button up.

"You look sexy in my clothes." The older man smirks.

"Yeah?" You grin, biting your thumb innocently.

"Mhmm," He confirms, getting up off the couch to pin you to the wall with a rough kiss.

You respond eagerly, your fingers wrapping tightly in his hair. He lifts your legs, wrapping them around his waist. You groan into Sam's kisses, and he lets you down to growl in your ear. "Get your ass in that bedroom."

You comply without protest, settling comfortably onto the edge of the bed. "Hey, Sam?" You ask as you hear him rummaging in the bathroom.

"Yeah?" His voice cracks slightly. Okay, confirmation that he was just as ready for this as you were.

"Do you really have all that stuff? To tie me up, I mean."

"I, uh... yeah. I do." Sam sounds embarrassed. You can see it in your head, the red blooming slowly under his skin, running a hand across the back of his neck, and through his hair.

You feel a shiver run through you and you hum softly. Sam returns, with a condom, and a soft blush coloring his features.

"Will you..." You trail softly, fidgeting when you couldn't figure out how you wanted to ask.

"Not yet. Soon. I promise. Just.... not yet, okay?" Sam ends his statement with a soft kiss.

"Okay," You nod, and ask if you could take a few moments in the bathroom, to which Sam nods and dismisses you with a smirk and a swat on the ass.

You look at yourself in the mirror, fixing and fussing with your hair, unbuttoning his shirt a little bit, adjusting your rain soiled makeup, and rising your mouth with a capful of Sam's mouthwash. When you peak your head back into the bedroom you feel tears in your eyes. The happy kind, though. The teacher had dimmed the lights to just above darkness, and five or six small candles flickered from strategic places around the room. Sam himself was perched on the end of the bed in his boxers, absently wringing his hands. He seemed....nervous. Which was a little strange, but you shook it off as you reentered the room completely. You sit in the brunet's lap and he pushes back some hair from your face and cups your cheek to bring you in for a gentle kiss that sends sparks of arousal dancing under your skin and in your belly. You feel the happy tears spilling over the edge and those hazel eyes seem very, very concerned when they meet yours.

"Hey, hey. What's wrong?"

You shake your head and rub furiously at your eyes. God, this is so embarrassing. You sort of want to melt into the carpet and die.

"Talk to me, ____." He urges, rubbing his thumb across your cheek.

"It's..." You take a few deep breaths, fanning your face. "It's just that no one's ever been this nice to me before."

A smile perks up the left side of his mouth, and his expression softens. He kisses you again, that same softness to it. "So beautiful." He works on unbuttoning your shirt and getting off your bra and panties, and kissing down your neck, murmuring things that make your heart flutter and your belly do triple summersaults.

"Lay on your back." Sam instructs you softly.

You do as you're told, laying naked, and exposed to Sam in so many ways, it makes you nervous. You watch the older man shed his boxers and carefully perch above you, his weight on his elbows. You hook your ankles at the small of his back and he smiles, that same half smile thing he'd been doing the moment you walked into AP English. Your hands wander, touching him everywhere you could. He lets you, whispering encouragements and praise, even compliments into your ear. You wanted to remember the way this felt. You curl your fingers possessively into that mop of dark brown locks, and just look. You search his eyes, and find something you're afraid to name. But he does it for you.

"I want to make sure that the first person that ever makes love to you cares about you." He strokes his knuckles down the side of your face, and you feel more tears coming on. "I care about you...so much, ____."

That did it. The dam breaks, and you feel more tears flow from your eyes. Sam lets you cry, simply thumbing and kissing away the tears. You finally regain composure, and feel your face heat. "God I'm such an idiot." You rub at your eyes.

"No you're not." He says softly.

"I care about you too, Sam, more than anyone." You nod, kissing him the way he kissed you, soft and passionate.

His response is just as slow, soft kisses, light touches. The brunet man teases at your clit with his cock, and makes a slow entrance; your soft moan is muffled by his mouth. You arch to meet all of his touches, everywhere skin meets skin is on fire, and you love how you feel. Protected, cared about, even loved. Like you were the only thing in Sam's world at this moment. You were his main focus. He angles his hips just right as he licks at your clavicle, and you muffle your cry by biting down on the web of your thumb.

"'S just us, Sweetheart. 'S just us. Be as loud as you want." Sam nuzzles your neck.

You nod, releasing your hand, and whimpering softly. "So good, Sam."

"God," He huffs, "So fucking perfect for me. So beautiful."

"Ahh," You tighten your fingers in his hair, desperate to get closer to him. You kiss him, running your nails up his back, "Sam!"

"Oh God, ____," Sam hisses, arching his back. "Love you so much,"

"Sam, God, missed you so much, so much." You bite at his shoulder, trying to fight off the butterflies his words gave you.

"Yeah?" He grips your waist tightly, and you begin to beg, "Please, please,"

"Please what?" He seems genuinely confused.

"Let me ride you." You murmur.

"Mmm," Sam makes the transition quick and you bite your lip.

You roll your hips experimentally, setting a slow pace. The English teacher lets out soft, breathy little moans and you feel your heart race. You brace yourself on his chest and begin to pick up speed. You moan, hitting your sweet spot over and over and Sam huffs beneath you. He kneads your breasts, your ass, unsure of where to put his hands while he watches you. He thrusts up to meet you and you whimper when he rolls you back over so that he topped. His thrusts are shorter, quicker and you begin to repeat "Sam, Sam, Sam!"

You tug on his hair. "Fuck! Need to come so bad, Sammy!"

"C'mon, love, almost there." The man murmurs, pressing a bruising kiss to your lips.

"Sa-ahhh," His name is lost on your lips as you clench around him, panting softly.

He continues to thrust, before stilling, and crying out your name with a harsh grunt. You tremble as Sam sits up and ties off the condom, tossing it into the trash. He holds you, his hands playing soothing notions along your back as he waits for you to come down.

"I meant it." He says into your hair.

"Meant what?" You question softly, though you had an assumption.

"You know what." Sam's voice hints at annoyed, but he knows what you're playing at. You wanted him to say it again. "When I said I love you. I meant it."

"Sam......" You chew the inside of your cheek. You like Sam. You'd had a massive crush on the guy for...well....forever. And you knew that this would happen. And you knew how you wanted to approach it. But now that it was here, you weren't so sure. I mean....who're you kidding? No one, that's who. Might as well tackle this headlong. "I think... I think I love you back."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bum ba ba bum! Here's a big basket of emotions :) I'm too lazy to edit the tags rn, but it's p much the same I think.


	5. Chapter 5

You're roused from a content sleep in Sam's arms on the couch by your phone buzzing incessantly.

"Hello?"

"Dude, you were supposed to come over two hours ago! I thought you were dead! Or... or kidnapped! I almost called the police!" Jen is frantic.

"Holy shit...." You sit up, "Dude, dude, calm down. I went to see Sam, and I fell asleep on his couch. I'll be there in a few." You yawn, and Sam raises an eyebrow at you when you end the call. "What? She thinks you're from my calculus class."

Sam chuckles as he straightens up. "'S okay. Dean and Cas think you're a girl from Starbucks named Lou Ann."

You roll your eyes and head to the bathroom. "Son of a bitch!"

"What?" He questions as he treks into the doorway.

"I forgot to lay out my shirt, so it's still soaked." You huff.

"Hang on." The brunet disappears, and you hear him shuffling things around as you tug on your jeans. He reappears with a large black hoodie, and a grin.

"Thanks." You smile, slipping it on. It smelled really, really good. Like cinnamon and Sam. "This thing smells amazing."

"Eheh, yeah, I wrapped some cinnaments with it when I moved out of Dean's." Sam recalls, pulling you to him by the strings that dangle from the hood.

"Cinnaments?" You question, raising an eyebrow.

"We didn't really live anywhere specific growing up because of our dad's job, and Mom died when I was a few month old, so we never had things like Christmas trees, and family ornaments. But Dean always wanted some. So with a bit of help from Bobby's wife, Karen, we made what she called cinnaments. They last forever, and they smell awesome." Sam explains, pecking your lips softly.

"Thank you," You smile, pulling on your half dry shoes as you head for the door.

"You're not walking." The English major insists, grabbing you by the waist.

"Well, why not?"

"One, we just watched a slasher movie; two, it's dark, and still raining; and three, because I said no." He spins you to face him, and you roll your eyes.

"What are you, my father?" You tease, toying with the gray shirt he wore.

"If you want me to be," He smirks.

"You are disgusting, Sam Winchester." You poke his chest lightly, and he lifts you by your hips and presses you against the back of the door, causing you to squeal softly.

"If I'm disgusting, why are you about to kiss me?" The taller Winchester challenges.

"I'm not about to-" You're cut off when he presses his lips to yours. Your response is almost automatic, and you want to hit him. Jerk.

"Say that again? I didn't catch that."

"Shut up."

*  
"Dude!" Jen announces, hitting the window, causing you to jump, and disconnect your lips from Sam's as you get out of the car. "You can suck face later! Get inside!"

"Bye." You bite your lip and grin at Sam, quickly shutting the door behind you.

"You're glowing. Like. Mad glowing. Did you get laid?" The brunette girl raises an eyebrow as you head in.

"No!" Your answer is too quick, and the way you feel warmth spreading across your face is a sure giveaway.

"Oh my god, you did! You got laid. Praise the lord! Was he good? You fell asleep, and that's why I almost sent a search party, you ass!" She swats at you and you roll your eyes.

"He was amazing. That's all I'm telling you." You feel a dark blush coloring your whole face as you bite your lip.

"Is that his hoodie? Did you steal the guy's hoodie? I see a hicky, dude." Jen teases as she shuts her bedroom door behind her. "Does it smell good?"

"Smells like.... I dunno. Something that's just... Sam. And also cinnamon. Sniff it." You offer her the sleeve.

"Oh my god that smells heavenly!" She flops backwards onto her bed and you chuckle. "Give me details, I wanna know!" She presses as you sit next to her.

"No!" You laugh.

"Please? Please, please, please?" Jen begs, grabbing at you for your phone.

"What are you doing, freakazoid?" You ask when she's typing away.

"Asking Sam for details." She grins.

"No! Gimme that!" You attempt to snatch your phone from her, but she insists on going through the message thread and you feel nervous. 

"Dude. 'Sam Winchester if you do not let me get off...' That's Sam? You're sleeping with Mr. Winchester?" Jen doesn't seem surprised. Just hurt. "Why didn't you tell me? I mean. I didn't think you'd take me seriously but.... Why would hide this from me?"

"I don't know, Jen. I'm so afraid of people finding out. The wrong people." She collects you in her arms, and sighs.

"Listen. I'm not gonna say anything. I promise. You have my word. Promise me you'll be careful. And learn to delete your message thread." Jen rolls her eyes. "So, how long's it been?"

"Since I failed my test."

"You're shitting me, right?"

"No." You admit, playing with the cuff of your sleeve.

*  
"Dude." Dean eyes the marks on his baby brother's neck. "Did you get laid?"

"Uh," Sam fidgets with the brim of his cup. "No?" He offers.

"You're a terrible liar, Sammy." The older Winchester scoffs.

Sam offers something else, a smile. A smile that says 'yes I did, and no you can't.'


End file.
